


Blood of Sin

by Hachi_ban



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hachi_ban/pseuds/Hachi_ban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hated the color of it, the way if coarsed through his veins. He wasn't alone, but he felt like he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble :)

He would get like this sometimes. He would sit on the cold floor, hating the infernal organ that pumped out the vile sludge he's known to be his blood. He hated the color, the color that was his alone, the color that would kill him if it was ever found out.  


He would get like this sometimes. He would hold the cold metal against his skin, feeling the betraying pulse against the blade. It beat faster and faster and he was so scared of it. He was scared of what he'd become, of what he could never be because of his blood.  


When he was alone, it would be worse. When he was alone, he was trapped in his own mind. When his moirail came to him, everything would be alright, if only for a short time. His moirail had found him like this only a few times, but each time he had regretted letting him see him so broken. A failure of a troll. He was a failure and he wished he could just end it, but he was too afraid of what lies beyond to ever cut deeper.  


His moirail would pull him close on the pile, shooshing his pain away. He'd take the blade, setting it far aside and hold him close. These were the moments where he could stand himself, because he was only enveloped in the warmth that was his moirail. He would hold him tight, petting his hair, nuzzling him. He would tell him that he was such a motherfucking miracle. His breath would catch, but he wouldn't shed a single tear. The weak and pathetic color that permeated his blood could not escape his tears. He could not let his emotion show, ever and it hurt, it hurt so much. His moirail would notice, his moirail would pull him in tight, rest his head on his shoulder. He would press his face into his chest, tell him that motherfuckin wicked beat all up inside him was the best miracle of all. All he could do was hold back the tears. He shook and his moirail would pap his cheek gently, he would kiss him softly on his cheek, his forehead, anywhere to cure the pain, but he couldn't really cure it. So long as that organ continued to beat, he would forever be trapped.


End file.
